Written and Wrenched
by Era-Age
Summary: Edo!Gajevy. Levy Briar thought living off of her plumbing services after magic had been stripped from her world was a nightmare. Then the king had to contract her to design a solution for their fuel-starved kingdom: a pipeline stretching deep underground to harvest oil. A certain reporter also needs a new lead to make ends meet, and it just so happens he's heard word of this plan.


"But if we have no magic power left, how is the toilet supposed to flush?"

The metallic sound of a wrench whacking against pipes rang throughout the small house. Levy Briar gnashed her teeth together and grumbled something quite unintelligent beneath her breath. Hunching her back, she twisted the soil pipe and swore when the hunk of junk didn't so much as budge an inch.

"If we can't flush our toilets, how are we supposed to go to the bathroom?"

Levy dropped to her knees, kicking her stool away, and yanked this way and that. Gruel coated both ends of the pipe, but she was determined. And when Levy Briar, engineering genius, was determined, _nothing_ would stand in her way.

Especially a sludgy, mucky, stinky, reeking, honest-to-the-hairy-backside-of-a-Legion _toilet._

"If we can't go to the bathroom, how are we supposed to eat or drink?"

Finally, the valve turned an inch. She smirked in victory, dug her heels in, and twisted again. The pipe came loose with a _pop!_ and she made the mistake of keeping her mouth open. Goop and swampy _stuff_ shot out at her, splattering her face and neck and _by an Exceed's tail,_ her cleavage.

"If we can't eat or drink, how are we supposed to—"

"SHUT UP!" The roar thundered out of her petite body, starting from her toes and coursing all the way to her head. She whirled around, jabbing her wrench into her portly patron's chest. "Look here, _buddy._ A toilet doesn't need magic to flush. Wanna know what makes a toilet work? Pressure. Water. Differences in pressure and water." She poked him for emphasis and continued with a snarl, "Wanna know what the problem is with your crap-can? There's muck and crap choking the pipes, is what!"

Her client blinked at the brown goop dripping from her chin. "But how come the toilet won't flush?"

Shouting and storming back to the toilet, she yanked off the lid on the tank. " _That's_ why! See any water in there? No? It's as dry as the desert!" Levy felt her face heating when the client still stood there with that dumb look on his chubby, flabby face.

"But why isn't there any water in the tank?"

"Oh, son of a Legion," she grumbled. Explaining the mechanics of a toilet was _so_ not in the contract. She stomped through the house, ripping a closet open despite the wails the hinges made, and tossed this and that out of her way. Shoulders hunched, she returned to the bathroom and shoved a bucket into her client's arms. "Bucket. Outside. Well." She jerked her thumb toward the window. "You fill the bucket with water," she said after he just looked at the pail.

"But without magic, the well won't work."

"Do it by hand," she bit out. "Like so," she huffed, and before her client could open his stupid mouth again, she hauled him by his shirt collar out of the house, into the yard, and placed the bucket under the spout. Blowing her bangs out of her face, she grabbed the handle and started the _down, squeak, up, down, squeak, up_ motions _._ She scowled at her client, and her button nose scrunched up; he was standing there, arms dangling at his sides, watching the water stream out of the spout.

"See?" she snapped. The man finally blinked. "You fill the bucket up." She took a swig from the bucket, swishing the water around in her mouth, and then spat it out at his feet. _Yuck._

"But how does it fill the tank up?"

 _Oh. Sweet Exceed whiskers and Legion armpits._

Hauling him back to the bathroom, she pushed the bucket back into his clumsy hands and pointed at the tank. "Dump. The water. Into. The tank." Finally, _finally,_ the client actually did something useful. He poured the water, and she exhaled. Now, she could finish with the stupid soil pipe—

"But why isn't it flushing?"

"YOU HAVE TO FLUSH THE TOILET!" Throwing her hands in the air, she cursed and whacked her wrench against the floor. The tile cracked, and that prompted her to slam her tool down again. Her client stood in the doorway, scratching his ear, and he cleared his throat. Oh, if this was another idiotic question, she'd shove her wrench right up his—

"Your skirt is really short."

Eyes blazing, she slowly turned her head toward him, and a toothy grin slithered onto her mouth. "Oh, really?" she asked, her voice carrying a forced lilt to it. She dropped her wrench and swung her hips side to side as she sashayed toward him. "It's _really_ short?"

Levy slid her fingers into his shirt and gripped his collar. She bumped her knee against his. He wasn't too much taller than her, so she didn't need to tilt her head back to peer up at him. She eyed him through her fluttering lashes, bit her bottom lip to make it red and plump, and dabbed her tongue against her upper lip. The effects were wonderful: his palms began to sweat, his fingers wiggled, and his pasty mouth opened and closed.

And then her knee jerked up.

 _Wham!_

* * *

Levy trudged her way through the Royal City, waving her wrench after every few steps to curse and snarl. It was late in the evening, and the good people of Edolas who were returning home after a long day of work raised their brows at the young miss muttering to herself. They made the right choice to keep far away from the Fairy.

Not that she'd ever tell them what they could do with themselves. Oh, _no._

Something squishy squelched in her boot and made her toes clammy and slippery. She slumped her shoulders and readjusted her duffel loaded with all of her tools. The straps were tight around her shoulders, and she knew from experience that she'd have angry red marks creased into her skin. That, and maybe she'd need a backrub soon. And a new pair of boots.

Before that, though, she needed warmth. The night was becoming cooler; a breeze swept through the narrow streets. Her oversized coat reached her fingers and thighs, and while it was made out of heavy material, she hated to have her knees shiver. Her uncouth choice of apparel came with a price, she supposed. At least with the temperature dropping, the city didn't reek of steaming garbage and sewage.

 _Ugh, sewage._ She'd had enough of _that_ for a lifetime.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she dragged herself to the only beacon of sanity in this corner of the city: Bick's tavern, The Baby Doll. Pushing open the door, the annoying chime sounded above her, making her shoulders hunch and eye twitch. She thought that by now, she'd be used to the high-pitched _ding ding ding,_ but for the past few months, that sound had been grating on her nerves.

Several other regulars, tucked into their seedy corners and booths, nodded at her, and she spared them a grunt or two. Levy dumped her duffel, plopped herself down on a barstool, and slumped over the counter. This was decidedly her seat in the bar, as she'd marked up this part of the counter during her frequent visits. She raised a finger, and the barman, owner, and manager all-in-one looked up from drying a mug.

"Look what the Exceeds dragged in t'night!" He laughed out a raspy cackle and set the mug down to prepare her order. "Briar, you're lookin' right tight dandy!" He poured an amber liquid into her shot glass and slid it to her.

She tipped her head back, and down it went. "Whisky's good, Bick," she said, her voice a bit hoarse after her first shot.

"Baby, you bet your wrench it is," he snickered. After her second shot went down the chute, he reached into the shelving behind the counter and placed a larger glass on the table. Again, he filled it with whisky.

"No rocks, huh?" she asked. She swished her drink around.

"Nah. Not without magic to freeze water anymore. Still has the burn, and that's what counts, yeah?" He hooted again when she tipped the glass back and guzzled it down in one go. He refilled her glass without any prompting. "So? What's got you smellin' like a sewer and lookin' like a pissy Exceed?"

" _Sixth_ job," she said, slamming her wrench on the counter. He plucked the tool from her hands and set it beyond her reach under the counter. Now, she was jabbing her forefinger into the wooden counter. "Sixth job this _week_ of fixing some idiot's toilet. To top it off, I ended up taking a nice little bath in an idiot's crapper today, free of charge and definitely _not_ written in the contract." Levy propped her chin on her crossed arms. "I really look like a pissy kitty, Bick?"

He took a moment to scrutinize her. Levy's hair was in tangles and sticking up at odd ends, her forehead was shining with sweat, her cheeks were flushed from an exhausting day, and there were smudges of grease and gunk on her nose and neck.

Bick nodded and topped her drink. "The pissiest kitty on the block, Briar." His striking green eyes flashed, and a toothy grin stretched the tattoos over his face. "Didn't know you were a plumber now! I got some pipes in the back that need to be—" He ducked just in time as a screwdriver sailed over the counter. It landed in a beam with a _thunk_ and wobbled for a few moments.

" _Engineer,"_ she growled. "I'm an _engineer,_ not a mechanic and _not_ a baggy-pants _plumber._ "

"Was about to say," Bick cackled, "your outfit's all wrong for the job."

"Stuff it with a bottle, Bick," she grumbled around her glass. Then, in another grouchy huff, she said, "Ain't nothing wrong with my clothes." Taking another swig, she licked her lips and drummed her fingers. "Things are bad," she quietly said after a moment.

"Yeah?" He leaned over the counter, one brow turned up. "How bad we talkin', Briar?"

"The type of bad that means I might be out of a career," she said with a frown. "I can't step foot into Fairy Tail without some _genius_ waddling up to me and bein' all, 'Oh, Levy, I heard that you fixed another toilet today! Can you fix mine?' Or, 'Levy, without any magic left, what are you going to do with the transportation device?' And my favorite, courtesy of Mira, 'Levy, you know it might be time to start exploring other career paths now that we don't have magic as a power source.'"

"Wow," Bick said. He nodded and crossed his arms over his lean chest. "Those impressions were spot on. Were the first two Elfman and Max?"

She slugged back the rest of her whisky. "And that's not the worst of it. Even Shadow Gear won't get off my ass. You'd think I'd get a bit more respect being the leader, yeah?"

Bick refilled her glass and sneered, "Well, fixing toilets is a very noble job." He held his hands up when another screwdriver poked his chin. "Hey, hey, it's all in good fun, Briar."

Grumbling, Levy dug the screwdriver into the counter and hunched her shoulders. "Jet and Droy are pissed," she murmured. Her features hardened into a frowny pout, and she puckered her mouth. "Which makes no _sense_ because they aren't the ones taking apart toilets and teaching the good, brain-dead people of Edolas how toilets work! Instead, they're getting all the good ones: beat this guy up, teach this guy a lesson, stop those thieving idiots—! And the worst part is that I find out after they return from their missions!"

She dropped her head onto the table. "Hey, hey. Briar," Bick said. He clicked his tongue, yet patted her head once, twice. "You're here to drink away your problems, not drown in 'em. Talk to your boys. Yeah, they've got thick skulls, but they might listen."

"Fat chance, Bick." She peeped at the barkeep from beneath her unruly hair. "Can I tell you a secret, Bick?"

"You tell me all of them," came his answer accompanied by a shrug.

Levy showed him her calloused palms. "See these hands?" She wiggled her fingers. "They're made for building things. For designing, for tweaking, for experimenting and calibrating and wiring. They ain't made for plumbing, Bick, and they haven't touched anything more sophisticated than that in a long time."

After she put her drink down, Bick whistled and started wiping his counter. "Woo-wee, Briar. 'Sophisticated.' That's a big word, you know."

"Drown in shit, Bick," she huffed. She reached for the bottle of whisky, only to have her hand swatted away. "Oh, come on! I didn't even go through half of it. I'm not even tipsy yet!"

"My bar," he said with his trademark toothy grin, "my rules, Briar. 'Sides, I'm a possessive man. Saving some of this for me, too, you know."

"Cheap-skate."

"Oh, baby, you know it. Now haul your skinny ass up and out of here back to your guild. And don't think I won't know if you pass out in an alleyway again. My dolls are all around the city; I've got eyes and ears everywhere." He winked a green eye at her. While his constant awareness of the Royal City's happenings could sometimes border on coddling, his methods were decent: he hired downtrodden children—his "dolls"—to do his snooping, and in turn, offered them a roof over their heads and food for their bellies. Bick made a fair deal, but that didn't mean it wasn't annoying for her.

He set her wrench and screwdriver in front of her. Frowning at the screwdriver still impaling his counter, he yanked it out and tapped it against her arm. "Sleep, eat, bathe, in any order you want, Briar. Just get home already, yeah?"

"Not like anyone would bother me if I choose the alleyway," she grumbled. It was true: while her partners may have been more than a little annoyed with her, Shadow Gear still held its impressive reputation in Edolas, and any idiot with half a brain knew better than to start anything with her.

Well, Edolas was full of the brainless, so maybe the alleyway wasn't such a good idea. Damn that Bick.

Snatching her tools, she slid off of the stool and hoisted her duffel. "Find a way to make ice next time," she said. Raising her hand in goodbye, Levy weaved her way past the tables and booths.

"Hey, Briar!"

Levy had just reached for the door when Bick hollered for her. Looking over her shoulder, she tented her brows at him.

"The toilet in the back has been makin' these weird noises for a few days now. Do you think you could—" Bick cackled and clutched his stomach when she stormed out of The Baby Doll.

She was fuming so much that she wouldn't be surprised if steam shot out from her ears. Her vision was hazy and her hearing was full of her mutterings, and she was too wrapped up in her plumbing escapades to stop herself from barging into something tall. Very tall.

Or, someone very tall.

She scowled up at the new customer. Levy shoved past him, moving too quickly to notice anything about him besides his hair. With a snarled, "Watch it, frizzy," she stomped throughout the royal streets back to her guild.

She almost didn't hear the customer's startled gasp of, "Pardon me, miss; I apologize."

 _Gross._

* * *

Fairy Tail was headquartered a respectable distance from the palace, but still close enough to the heart of the city for its central location to be convenient for the people of Edolas. For Levy Briar, it was convenient in that she only had an hour-long walk from The Baby Doll until she could throw herself into her usual cot and forget about the world for several hours.

By Extalia, if she had one more dream of toilets and plungers, she'd rip her hair out. Or Lucy's hair out. Definitely Lucy's hair; she was quite fond of her own hair.

Pushing open the heavy doors, she yawned and made her way into her guild, one heavy step at a time. Rubbing her face, Levy shrugged her duffel off and dragged it the rest of the way to the cots. Only a few guildmates were awake at this hour, and they were either too tired to start chirping at her or wise enough to bugger off for the night.

Huh. Maybe the people of Edolas weren't so stupid after all.

Yawning again, she kicked her duffel under the cot snuggled into a corner, and then flopped onto the mattress without so much as taking her boots off. She was small enough to fit comfortably on the bed, and once her head hit the pillow, she was gone from the world.

And awoke to sunlight spilling in from the high window situated just above her bed. Groaning, Levy turned to smush her face in the pillow. She scrunched her nose after the back of her head tingled, and slowly, she forced her neck to turn. Mirajane's concerned, wide eyes blinked at her. "There you are, Levy. I was wondering if you were going to turn in or not."

Levy's chosen reply was to grumble and hide her face in the pillow.

Mira smiled and patted Levy's back, knowing that anywhere from the neck-up was most decidedly _off limits_ on the petite engineer in the mornings. "You have three more requests today. Everyone in the Royal City wants Shadow Gear's mechanic to look at their pipes. Actually," Mira mused to herself, tapping a finger against her lips, "there were more than three requests, but I figure that even with an early start, you could only see three clients today."

One angry hazel eye glared at Mirajane from a mop of unruly hair. " _Mechanic?"_ Levy hissed.

"And," Mirajane continued, "I stopped by the market yesterday. There were people looking to hire workers in the mines and fields. Don't you groan and roll away from me, Levy Briar." Mirajane arched a brow at her guildmate. Had Levy been facing her, Mirajane's eyes alone would have singed her face right off. Fairy Tail's barmaid's voice was all chipper and chirpy, though. "It's good to keep your options open and remain optimistic. This is a time of change, and change brings with it opportunities."

Levy stared long and hard at the wall. If she looked closely enough, she could imagine that the bumps and grooves in the wood made pictures. One particular ring looked like a panther—or maybe a jaguar? Huffing when she realized Mirajane was still standing at her bedside, Levy turned onto her back and draped an arm across her head. "Where are the clients located?" she asked at last.

Mirajane beamed and held out the contracts for her. "North-Side, about an hour walk from the palace. If you hurry, you'll make it to the first client before it gets too hot." There were those hard blue eyes again, and if Levy Briar never heard a warning before, well, this was a prime example of one. "Wash up and brush your teeth. No offense, Levy, but you kind of smell like a—"

Levy could give her own death glares, too.

Mira smiled. "I'll leave breakfast for you at the bar." With that, the barmaid closed the curtain around the cot and excused herself.

Levy sat herself up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Working in North-Side meant she'd be too far from Bick's bar for a late night drink and company, and so she'd have to spend the evening sober and not a drop tipsy. Just her crappy luck. Standing, Levy kicked her muddy boots off and peeled herself out of her clothes.

Without magic, bathtubs and showers became obsolete things, and so the process of bathing was done by standing in a basin of water and scrubbing. For Levy, it wasn't too much of a hassle, and she even had space to sit down in the basin. But for the other, taller members of Fairy Tail, bathing became a chore and something to snarl about. Like Jet and Droy; both of them were well acquainted with showers and hated the idea of squishing themselves into a bucket to marinate in soap. She, of course, snickered at their misfortune.

Served them right for leaving her behind on one-too-many missions.

After brushing her teeth and muttering, "You are an _engineer,_ Levy Briar," in the mirror, she dressed herself in a pair of torn shorts, a cropped camisole, and a pair of booties. The ones she wore yesterday, her _favorite_ red ones, were all mucked up and, she believed with a frown, beyond saving. A quick inspection confirmed her thoughts: there was a hole in the sole, and the inside was caked with…

Stuff. Toilet stuff.

Grumbling, she hoisted her duffel and dragged herself to the bar. The early-birds were there—Elfman, Max, and Juvia—and thankfully her teammates were nowhere to be found. She swiped the toast and coffee Mira had left her and trudged out of Fairy Tail. Her hair, still damp from her bath, frizzed and curled once she set foot outside of her guild. Well, dandy. Today was just going to be _marvelous._

Hopefully, she wouldn't see Jet or Droy on her way to North-Side; it was far too early in the day to put up with their Legion-shit, and she wasn't caffeinated enough to conjure up any comebacks to their jeers. No shit today, she thought.

And then grimaced.

At least, not Legion-shit.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, for those of you who are reading Steel for Humans, you know I mentioned writing an Edo!Gajevy fic. Here it is! I like the Edolas versions of characters (Gajeel and Levy), and really wanted to see some of those characters (Gajeel and Levy) have more interactions with each other (Gajeel and Levy). I have a good idea where this story is going, and I'm excited to write it :) Of course, let me know what you think of it so far!**

 **In other words, Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima, and all-things Fairy Tail do, as well. However, the names not canon (Levy Briar, Bick's Tavern The Baby Doll, etc.) are from my own imagination, and are thus mine. The characters are Mashima's, yes, but the interpretations are mine.**

 **And in MORE other words, I really don't have a single clue about plumbing or toilets. XD Everything related to the fine art of sewagery is from the How-To sites on the internet. Ahhh, the joys of being a business major...**


End file.
